


Nightmare

by Bookkbaby



Series: Until Only A Scar Remains [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x03, 9x03 Coda, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Closure, Coda, Dark, Depression, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Night Terrors, Other: See Story Notes, POV Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Self-Blame, Supportive Dean, Supportive Sam, Survival Rape, Trauma, Triggers, Victim Self-Blaming, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 09:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6560365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's nothing," Cas says, but his face has gone pale and he won't look Dean in the eye. "I have to go."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Baethazar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baethazar/gifts).



> Dedicated to baethazar, without whom I would not have been able to write this fic.
> 
> Please note that this fic is extremely dark and should be read with caution if you're sensitive to anything mentioned in the tags. It does end on a hopeful note, but there are a lot of painful things revealed in this fic, though not explicitly discussed.
> 
> This fic was written in response to 9.03 because even two and a half years later, I have demons from that episode I have been unable to exorcise. Writing this fic was cathartic for me and I post it in hopes that it might help someone else.
> 
> For those concerned about the tags:
> 
> This fic mainly deals with Cas's trauma from 9.03 and him blaming himself for what happened. In this, Dean learns of Cas's trauma and his guilt and tries to help him start to heal.

At first, Dean isn't sure what wakes him, but as he gets dragged back to consciousness, he becomes aware of the soft moans and groans filling the room. He rolls over on the cot, scowling as he looks towards where Sam is sleeping.

Sam is peacefully asleep, mouth open and snoring quietly.  _He's_  clearly not the source of the sound, so Dean turns to look with sleepy but incredulous eyes towards Cas's bed.

It's then that his brain fully wakes and he realizes that the sounds are  _not_ , as he had first suspected, happytime dream sounds. In the low light streaming in through the blinds of the motel room, Dean can see Cas's face scrunched together in fear, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Dean winces in sympathy and feels his irritation abruptly banked.

They've all got nightmares, but Cas has some of the worst. Dean isn't sure all what he dreams about, but in centuries of life as an angel (hell, and the last few years with the Winchesters), he's got enough high octane nightmare fuel to last for a lifetime.

Dean's just starting to wonder if he should wake Cas up when the decision is made for him. Cas's eyes snap open and he looks wildly around the room, shirt soaked with sweat.

Dean lets himself go limp, pretending he's still asleep while he watches Cas through slitted eyes. He doesn't want to embarrass the guy, after all, not with things still so delicate between them, despite Cas having lived with them for months now.

Cas's breathing slowly calms as he looks around the room and finds nothing but the two apparently sleeping Winchesters. Dean watches him slide quietly out of bed and stumble towards the bathroom.

As expected, he shuts the door behind himself. The light comes on, Dean can see it streaming beneath the door, and a few moments later, he hears the shower running.

Dean sighs and rolls over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. Cas has some kind of obsession with being perfectly clean. His showers are frequent and long, longer than they have any right to be given that Dean's pretty sure he's not jacking himself off in there. The first few times Dean had made joking comments about his love for long showers, Cas had stormed off and disappeared for hours.

Cas's showering habits aren't as bad as they used to be, back when he first started staying with Dean and Sam, but it's still noticeable, especially after particular nightmares.

Dean feels like it's something he should ask about, but Cas gets very tight-lipped and quiet whenever Dean or Sam say anything about it.

It's not something Dean likes to think about, a pang of guilt hitting him hard every time he sees that haunted, hunted look in Cas's eyes.

He lets the sound of the shower lull him back to sleep.

  
The hunt was a roaring success. Sam had found them a simple salt and burn to ease Cas into life as a human hunter, since literally nothing else had been easy for the former angel. The bones of one Miss Tess d'Urberville had been located in the old cemetery just outside of town, dug up, and burned.

She'd been haunting her old house, pretty furious with the new owners and their ideas about an 'open floor plan'. Still, for all her howling and rattling chains, she hadn't been aggressive enough to do more than scratch them up a little and leave a few bruises.

And a successful hunt calls for a celebration.

There's a dive bar close enough to the motel that they can walk. They'd left the Impala in the parking lot.

Dean lifts his beer and takes a long gulp, then puts the glass down with a satisfying 'thunk'. He smiles, wondering when was the last time he'd been so uncomplicatedly _happy_.

A long, long time ago. But right now, he has his brother, his angel, a drink in his hand, and classic rock playing in the background. Yes, things are finally looking up in the life of Dean Winchester.

"Today was a good day," he announces, grinning. Sam laughs and raises his bottle.

"I'll drink to that," he says. Cas smiles too and lifts his beer before taking a sip.

"Today was... good," Cas says, like he's testing the words. He nods then, like he's made a decision, and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease. Dean's smile softens when he notices.

The bags under Cas's eyes are still heavy and dark, and he doesn't smile much, so it feels like a major accomplishment to see him relax. Dean's half-hoping to ply him with enough alcohol that he'll either talk and unburden himself a little or so he'll fall into a dreamless sleep tonight, Dean doesn't   
particularly care which.

One good night, that's all Dean wants for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a woman sitting at the bar. She's slender, her hair a dark strawberry-blonde, lightly curled at the ends, and she's eyeing Cas like he's the hottest item on the menu.

Dean forces down the momentary and completely inappropriate flash of possessive jealousy. Cas isn't his... anything, really. If he noticed some lady checking out Sam, he'd already be bringing it to Sam's attention so he could go grab some tail if he was interested.

He should do the same for Cas, despite the clench in his gut. Cas wasn't into dudes, so really, Dean should just get over this ridiculous infatuation and just-

He clears his throat and leans forward, mustering up what he hopes is a sincere smile, hoping Cas can't see how strained it is.

"Hey, you've got a friend at three o'clock," he says. Cas frowns and looks down at his watch.

"It's almost seven-thirty, Dean," he says. Dean laughs and shakes his head. Sam chuckles and glances over at the bar.

"He means that someone is checking you out. Like, they're looking at you like they want to sleep with you," Sam explains at Cas's confused stare. "She's over at the bar, the one in the maroon shirt."

Slowly, like he's not sure if he wants to or maybe he's being teased, Cas turns to look at the bar. His expression flickers for a moment, something unidentifiable racing across his face before his expression just shuts down.

Dean frowns, concern creeping in.

"Cas?" he says, looking back at the woman at the bar. He didn't think Cas had any mojo left, but if he's picking up bad vibes from her- shit, the demon- killing knife is back at the motel.

"It's nothing," Cas says, but his face has gone pale and he won't look Dean in the eye. "I have to go."

Cas stands up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. He makes an aborted move to grab it, then pulls his hand back, ducks his head, and makes a beeline for the door. His usual grace is completely absent and it's a miracle he doesn't bump into anyone in his haste to leave, practically body-slamming the door before wrenching it open and disappearing into the night.

Dean exchanges flabbergasted looks with Sam.

"What just happened?" Dean asks, already standing and reaching to take out his wallet. Sam shakes his head helplessly, but he's already waving Dean off.

"I've got enough to cover it. Go after him," Sam says. Dean nods briefly in thanks, then whirls around and follows Cas out the door.

Cas is halfway down the block, walking like he's drunk though Dean _knows_ it takes more than half a beer to get Cas even a little buzzed. Dean jogs a little to catch up.

"Cas!" he calls, hoping to get his friend's attention. Cas just keeps doggedly walking forward, ignoring him. Annoyed and not a little confused, Dean speeds up a bit until he can reach out and touch him.

The second Dean's hand makes contact with Cas's shoulder, Cas _flinches_ like he'd been struck, whirling around and pulling away from the touch. Dean holds his hands up placatingly, eyes wide.

Cas's breathing is heavy like he'd just run a marathon, not walked half a block from a bar. His eyes are wide, only calming a little from what Dean realizes is _panic_ when he recognizes Dean. 

"Cas, you ok?" Dean asks, even though the answer is quite obvious that no, Cas is not 'ok'.

"I'm fine, Dean," Cas says, but the tension is obvious in every line of his body. He's coiled, like a horse about to bolt, chest still heaving. He reminds Dean of nothing so much as a skittish animal right now, and for the life of him he can't imagine why.

He's struck by a sudden memory of Cas in the brothel, with a similar wide-eyed, frightened look to the one he's wearing now, except this seems _hurt_ in a way he hadn't been then. Dean forces himself to chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.

"What, she not your type?" he asks. Cas's flinch is almost imperceptible, but the suddenly greenish cast to his features is not. Dean feels like he just put his foot in it but he doesn't know _how_.

"I have to go," Cas says, the words ragged, and then he takes off again. Dean's frozen for a moment in surprise, then he's stumbling after Cas.

"Cas, come on, wait a minute!" he says, fear creeping in along the worry. He's never seen Cas like this, not in all the years he's known him, and it's driving him crazy that he can't help, in fact only seems to be making it worse. Desperate, he tries reason. "I've got the room key. What were you going to do, sleep outside?"

"I should have!" Cas snarls, so savagely that Dean draws back, shocked. The vehemence of his statement seems to surprise even Cas, because Cas goes still too, an apology in his eyes.

He holds out his hand. Dean notices that he's shaking.

"The key, please," Cas asks. He's doing that thing where he's not looking at Dean again. Dean swallows thickly. He hesitates.

"Dean, _please_."

"I'm coming with you," Dean says. Whatever Cas is dealing with, he shouldn't have to do it alone.

Cas doesn't seem to have it in him to argue. He just shakes his head but makes no protest as Dean follows him the rest of the way to the motel.

On the way, Dean sends a surreptitious text to Sam. If he and Cas are going to talk (and they will, Dean is grimly determined), the last thing they need is Sam bursting in at a crucial moment and making Cas clam up again.

Dean still remembers that conversation, the emptiness in Cas's eyes when Cas had confessed "I'm afraid I might kill myself".

Dean shivers and unlocks the door to the motel room. Cas darts inside and heads immediately for the bathroom. Dean opens his mouth to speak, but whatever words he would have said die on his tongue as the bathroom door swings shut behind Cas. The lock clicks and the light turns on.

Dean sighs, gearing himself up for thirty minutes of waiting Cas out, but the expected sound of the shower doesn't come.

A minute goes by. Five. There's still no sound from the bathroom, and then-

A muffled cry.

Dean's at the door in an instant, trying the knob and finding it, of course, locked. The movement inside the bathroom stills.

"Cas?" Dean calls. "Cas, open the door."

Dean can _hear_ the breath as it shudders in Cas's lungs. He doesn't reply.

"Cas?" Dean asks, trying to keep the fear from his voice. "Open the door. Please."

There's still no sound, just a hesitant silence, like Cas is trying to decide to open the door. Dean closes his eyes, praying the silence isn't something worse.

"Talk to me," he says, on the verge of begging. "Please."

Silence.

The lock clicks open. Dean sags in relief as the door opens, but his relief is tempered by the look on Cas's face.

He's drawn and pale, gaze fixed on the floor. He's half out of his trenchcoat but hugging his arms around himself, like he couldn't bear to actually let go of the cloth barrier, despite the AC in the motel isn't working and the room is balmy.

"Cas?" Dean asks gently. Cas swallows.

"It was raining," he says quietly, almost to himself. His voice shakes ever so slightly. "It was raining and I- I didn't-"

Cas shakes his head. Dean frowns.

"What are you-" he starts, but Cas cuts him off.

"I didn't- I should have gone back out, taken my chances with the rain, but I... I've watched humanity for centuries, I've seen-" Cas swallows. "Hypothermia. Pneumonia. Influenza."

"Cas, you're not making sense," Dean says slowly. This has something to do with the bar, he's sure, but he can't quite see the connection.

"I didn't have anywhere to go," Cas says in a small voice, not looking at Dean. "I was hungry and she-" He shivers, shakes himself, continues. "There was food. I couldn't- if I'd been turned away, I-"

Slowly, a horrible sort of realization begins to dawn in Dean's mind. He swallows thickly, staring in shock at Cas.

"What are you saying," Dean says, because it's not really a question, he doesn't want this answered. He already knows, the terrible shape of the truth beginning to coalesce in his mind like an unstoppable avalanche.

"I should've gone back out, I should've-" Cas's breathing is unsteady, breaking up his words and he's tense, fingertips digging into the meat of his arms like he's trying to hold himself together. His voice cracks. "I can't wash it off."

Cas sounds so _helpless_. Dean feels sick.

Christ, he'd _made jokes_ about this.

"Cas-" he says, voice breaking, but Cas doesn't seem to hear him.

"I can still feel it," he says. "Her touch. And I can't- no matter how hot the water gets, I- and the nightmares, they-" He swallows again, convulsively. "I'm back there again, and I can't- I can't, I _can't_ -"

Cas's voice breaks, and with it, so does Dean.

He aches to just leap forward and pull Cas into a hug, but he's equally terrified that doing the wrong thing right now will make Cas shatter like glass.

"Can I-" The words punch out of him and he lifts his arms, heart pounding. "Please."

He's not sure if he's begging because he needs the comfort or because he thinks Cas does. Cas is nodding, eyes shut tightly, head still bowed, like he doesn't dare ask for reprieve.

Dean surges forward, arms coming up to wrap around a shaking Castiel and hold him tightly. Dean's eyes are burning, his throat closed up, and all he can do is listen as the dam breaks.

"It was raining," Cas says again, desperate. "And I didn't want- but I couldn't, and when I found out she was-" Cas swallows. His breathing hiccups. "I wanted to apologize, tell her I was sorry, but when I see her face in my nightmares, I _can't_. I know it wasn't her, but- it wore her face, and I can't-"

"It wasn't your fault," Dean says thickly. His vision is blurry, but with Cas's chin hooked over his shoulder, it doesn't matter. He holds Cas firmly, not daring to let go lest Cas break apart completely.

Cas is shaking his head.

"I should have- I could have done something, I should have," Cas says. He breathes in, air stuttering in his lungs. Dean can feel dampness on his cheeks and he's not sure if it's him or Cas. "I should have left, I could have _stopped_ -" His voice breaks off.

"It wasn't your fault," Dean says again, helpless. This is shit he's nowhere near equipped to deal with, but Cas hasn't shoved him away yet and Dean will be damned again before he lets Cas suffer this alone.

Like he'd apparently been doing for months, ever since... _shit_.

Dean starts swaying back and forth, gently, rubbing one hand on Cas's upper back. He'd done this for Sam when Sam was a baby and fussy and he hopes it has the same calming effect on Cas. Cas is still locked up, hiccuping and shaking, body curled tightly in on himself. It's not exactly a comfortable or reciprocal hug, but Dean has hope.

"It wasn't your fault," Dean whispers. He doesn't know what else to say. He's not the one that's good with words or emotional conversations, but he _is_ the one Cas is talking to about this.

Dean just has to buckle down and do his best, and ignore the feeling that he's failed Cas horrifically by not being here sooner.

"How can you say that?" Cas asks softly, like Dean had just dealt him a blow. Cas pulls back from the hug abruptly and Dean lets him go, watching helplessly as Cas shakes his head, his hands pulling his coat tighter around himself. "How can you say it _wasn't my fault_?"

"Cas-" Dean starts, but Cas is having none of it. He pushes past Dean into the motel room proper, like suddenly being cornered in the bathroom is too much.

  
"I could have done something, Dean, I could have said 'no'. She-" Cas's voice breaks off and he's pacing the room like a trapped animal. "She had no control, and I-"

 _You didn't either_ , Dean wants to protest, but the words are stuck behind the lump in his throat.

"I could have left, I could have said 'no', I-" Cas's voice gives out and he hunches in on himself, stopping his pace by the door to the outside. "I wanted to. The entire time, I wanted it to be _over_ and I wanted it to stop but I couldn't, I couldn't say it, I couldn't-"

Cas shakes his head again. Dean aches, the need to help like a throbbing pain deep in his chest, but his feet feel rooted to the spot. He can't even speak, can't do anything except bear witness.

"I couldn't stop it," Cas says brokenly.

Dean steps forward slowly, telegraphing his moves and keeping his hands out in front of him. He feels like he's running out of time, like unless he finds the right words and he finds them _now_ , Cas will end up somewhere so dark there won't be any pulling him out.

Cas watches him warily, eyes wide and red-rimmed, like he's said his piece and is now waiting, terrified, for Dean's reaction. Dean swallows.

"Cas, it _wasn't your fault_ ," he says, voice steady with his conviction even though his heart is pounding fit to break a rib. He needs more than this, he knows, just repeating that Cas isn't to blame won't make him believe it. He casts his mind around desperately for something to say, praying he doesn't set off some hidden landmine before he finds his way to Cas.

"You didn't have a choice," Dean says carefully. Cas shakes his head, looking lost.

"I-" he says, but his protest is weak. Dean feels something like hope kindle in his chest.

"You didn't know," Dean says. He doesn't even know if he's referring to something specific or the whole mess in general, because there's a sickening amount that Cas _didn't know_. Dean shoves those thoughts away so he can stay focused, swallowing down the bile in his throat. "You had no way of knowing, Cas. It's not your fault."

Cas looks down, then back up, opening and closing his mouth like he wants to speak but has no words, like everything that had been building inside of him for months had poured out of him.

"You didn't have a choice. You weren't given one," Dean says thickly. "You weren't... just because she never said the threat out loud doesn't mean it wasn't there. Doesn't mean you weren't... forced."

Cas's expression is pinched, conflicted, confused like he doesn't know what to make of Dean's words. Like he'd expected to be told to suck it up, or that he had no right to feel hurt.

Dean feels his anger, slowly simmering to a full boil, suddenly flare. Some of it is directed inwards, for not noticing this sooner, for not being there earlier, but the vast majority of it has a target far outside of himself.

Nothing should have ever put that expression on Cas's face.

 _Nothing_.

"But I..." Cas says. His voice trails off and he shakes his head, doubt slithering back in. Dean's hands clench into fists and he strives for calm, because the last thing he wants is for Cas to mistake the direction of his sudden loathing.

"Cas, this is on the reaper, not you," Dean says, unable to keep his voice entirely calm. The bite of his anger seems to draw Cas's attention and Cas looks at him, stunned silent. "I'm going to keep saying it until you believe me, but this _was not your fault_."

He looks Cas directly in the eye, silently imploring Cas to hear him, to take his words in as truth, because that's what this is. The truth, laid out bare for Cas to see, because maybe Cas can't believe it until he has someone who can believe it with him.

Dean's got enough conviction for the both of them.

"It _preyed_ on you, Cas," Dean says, spitting the words out quickly like ripping off a band-aid. "It found you when you were weak and out of options and it  _used_ that. April was-"

"Don't," Cas says, flinching, brief and kneejerk. Dean bites his tongue but presses forward.

"She was collateral damage. The reaper went through her to get to you, and that's on the reaper, not you," Dean says. Cas's eyes narrow and he looks at Dean sharply.

"'Collateral damage'?" Cas repeats, almost snarling. "She was a _victim_ , Dean, and if I hadn't-"

"So were you," Dean shoots back, because he's not willing to back down from this, even though guilt briefly cuts through the anger. He swallows. "Look, what happened to her- to both of you - was awful. Believe me, I know." He shakes his head. "But you didn't make her a victim, Cas. The reaper did that."

Cas's anger drops abruptly away and he looks down.

"But it was me," Cas says miserably. "It was my-" He cuts himself off, too choked up to speak.

"It wasn't your decision, Cas," Dean says gently. "You didn't know. You couldn't have known."

Cas nods slowly, like he can see the logic but can't quite believe it. Dean swallows, anger simmering again.

"The reaper did that to her, not you," Dean says. "It controlled both of you, just used different tools to do it."

Cas is quiet for a moment. He wrings the fingers of one hand, looking down.

"She must have been so scared," he says after a moment, softly. Dean nods, feeling his eyes burning again, hearing what Cas doesn't say.

_"I was."_

Dean doesn't know what to say. He knows there aren't any words that can _fix_ this, not really, even if every bone in his body is screaming that he wants to make this _better_ somehow. He doesn't want to see Cas so lost and hurt, can't stand seeing Cas in pain, but it's far better than Cas having to deal with it alone.

This isn't the kind of hurt that's fixed in one conversation.

Dean clears his throat.

"What do you need?" he asks. He wants to extend the promise, to let Cas know that it's not an offer just for tonight. From the way Cas looks at him, he think Cas hears what Dean isn't saying either.

_"From now on, whatever I can do."_

Cas glances at the bathroom, then at his bed. He takes a deep breath.

"Sleep, I think," Cas says. Dean nods. He's exhausted too, completely wrung out, but Dean doesn't think he'll be able to sleep just yet.

Not for a while tonight, if he's being totally honest with himself.

"Go for it," Dean says. Cas's smile is brief, not quite sincere and no big thing, but it's there. Dean breathes out.

Cas silently gathers clean pajamas from his duffle bag while Dean busies himself with the pens and pad of paper on the nightstand between two of the beds. It feels awkward to watch Cas directly, so Dean does it out of the corner of his eye, watching Cas as he walks to the bathroom. Then, in the doorway, he stops and turns.

"Dean," he says.

Dean turns immediately, tilting his head up to show he's listening.

Cas's expression is painfully sincere and open, naked gratitude on his face.

"Thank you," Cas says and the words feel heavy as they lay across Dean's shoulders, but Cas seems lighter somehow. Like a burden has been lifted. It settles something in Dean, something unhappy and restless, and he relaxes.

A burden shared is a burden halved, or so the saying goes. Dean's just glad that he can help carry the weight.

He smiles.

"No problem," Dean says. Cas gives him another fleeting, uncertain smile and disappears into the bathroom to change.

Dean waits until Cas is completely asleep before he texts Sam the all clear.

There had been a heavy but fragile peace in the motel room as Cas tucked himself into bed and Dean busied himself with the laptop, ostensibly to try finding their next hunt. In truth, he did little more than scroll aimlessly, following one link to another and another without really taking any of the information in.

Their talk earlier seemed to create a bubble inside of the room, one Dean was loath to break and invite anyone else into. Here, at least everything was understood, even if all was not well.

Before Sam comes into the bubble, Dean will have to tell him _something_. Not the full story, because it's not his to tell, but something so that Sam, in benign ignorance, doesn't do or say something that sends Cas back to the world of his nightmares.

Missteps, Dean knows, are inevitable, but he may as well try to prevent them if he can. Letting Sam stumble around in the dark is asking for trouble.

He hears a soft knock on the door: Sam, asking to be let back in, since Dean had the room's only key. Dean takes a deep breath, one last look at the sleeping Cas, and heads to the door.

Sam's waiting outside and he doesn't seem surprised when, instead of letting him in, Dean comes out and shuts the door behind himself.

"What happened?" Sam asks, voice quiet like he doesn't want to disturb the neighbors. Dean shakes his head and then gives a significant nod in the direction of the Impala. Sam nods and follows him to the car, waiting for Dean to speak.

Once there, Dean lays a hand on the hood of his car and takes a deep breath. He looks up at the stars and tries to gather his thoughts.

"Dean?" Sam asks, confused. "What was it? Is Cas ok?"

Dean nods slowly, not looking at Sam.

"Yeah, yeah he's fine, he just-" Dean breathes out. "He'll be fine."

Dean's not altogether sure if he's trying to convince Sam or himself.

"He looked pretty freaked," Sam says carefully. Dean nods, steels himself, and dives in.

"Just... don't joke about sex in front of him," he says. He swallows. "And don't talk about Detroit."

Dean's still trying not to think about it too hard, trying not to think about all the 'what ifs'. If only Dean had done something differently, maybe-

He tears his thoughts away from that train of thought.

Sam's brow furrows in confusion, like he's not sure what one has to do with the other, or what either has to do with tonight.

"Okay, I won't," Sam says slowly, expectantly. Like he's waiting for an elaboration Dean's not going to give him.

Dean nods once, sharply.

"Good. Good talk," he says, turning back to the motel room. Sam grabs the sleeve of his flannel. Dean stops.

"Can you tell me why?" Sam asks, naked concern in his voice. Dean turns and he can see the gears working in Sam's brain, on the cusp of an answer but not quite there yet.

Dean shakes his head.

"Cas will tell you if he wants to, but-" He catches Sam's eyes, voice deep and serious, even around the lump in his throat. "- _do not_ ask him about it."

Sam nods slowly, face scrunched up in deep concentration. Dean can tell he's probably casting his mind back to that day, adding up what he knows of that to what he knows now, what Dean's asked him not to say, to Cas's idiosyncrasies when it comes to bathing and changing clothes-

A bleak light dawns in Sam's eyes. Dean waits.

"Dean." Sam speaks as if the words are being pulled unwillingly from his throat. "Was he-"

"He'll be fine," Dean interrupts firmly, pulling his arm away from Sam's slack grip. He has to believe that, has to believe he didn't fail Cas completely. "He's got us."

Sam looks at Dean for a moment, then nods, tightening his jaw like he's made a decision. He rubs at his eyes and nods again, quicker this time.

"Yeah, he does," Sam says. Dean gives him a half-smile and nods, clapping him on the shoulder. If his own eyes are a little red, Sam doesn't call him on it.

They turn back to the motel room, both lost in heavy thoughts, though the silence between them is companionable. United.

Dean unlocks the door quietly, preceding Sam into the room and immediately glancing over to make sure they didn't wake Cas.

The third, formerly angelic member of their little family is still peacefully asleep in his bed. Tonight, no dreams disturb his rest, and Dean isn't sure if it's emotional exhaustion or the relief of having someone finally _know_ , but he's grateful for every easy breath Cas draws.

Dean hopes it lasts, but even if it doesn't, if Cas's nightmares wake him again tonight like they did the night before, Dean will be there. To listen, if that's what Cas needs, reassure him if he doubts, or just sit in silence if words are too much.

It's not enough, Dean thinks, but it is something. And maybe he can figure out how to be enough, how to draw an easy, real smile out of Cas, how to chase the shadows from his eyes. How to give Cas peaceful, dreamless nights, how to heal the wound so only a scar remains.

Cas will be ok.

Dean will make sure of it.

 


End file.
